Words He Couldn't Say
by 12HockeyChick21
Summary: John Winchester was never a really open man after the accident. He kept most of his thoughts to himself. But as time went by and he realized it was too late for him to say what he needed, he wrote it down. John hoped one day that he would be able to share his feelings with his boys, but would it be through words... or would the boys just be reading all of his thoughts from paper?
1. Chapter 1

The scream. My order to Dean. The sound of the flames crackling and of Sammy crying. These sounds all stuck in my head as I sat in the back of that ambulance, holding my baby and toddler close. Dean was four and Sammy was only six months old. Little do most people know, my wife Mary, who'd died in the fire that night, was not only murdered. She was also three and a half months pregnant with our third child. I knew exactly what had killed her too. A demon.

It was there in the back of that ambulance where I watched the firemen try to extinguish the flames attacking my home that I vowed to get revenge. I promised to find that demon and kill it. Not only for my wife and unborn child, but also for my boys and I. They deserved closure. I didn't know where this demon went or where I could find it, but I knew one thing for certain. I was going to protect my remaining family if it was the last thing I ever did. I'd teach them how to protect themselves. I'd teach them how to be strong, just like their mother had been.

I'd teach them to be hunters...

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Hey guys, thanks for reading. I know this first chapter was very, very short. It was just an idea that came to me and I wanted to see how many people may be interested before really getting invested into it. So if you think you'd like to read a story about the boys' earlier life and this got you hooked at all, please follow the story andor leave me a review so I know you're out there and you want more. Thanks for your support, you guys rock! ~12HockeyChick21**


	2. Chapter 2

**November 2nd 1984**

It's been a year today since my sweet wife, Mary's, death. Sam and Dean seem to have forgotten. But who am I kidding... they're children. Days are of little meaning to them. Dean hasn't forgotten his mother, though. Of the little items that were safely recovered from the fire, we received a couple photos and a small toy. The toy was the little pink stuffed bear Mary had gotten as a gift several weeks before her death. How it survived the fire, I had no idea. It always seemed a little strange. I call it a gift because that's what Mary had called it. "Our little gift from a friend looking down on us." It came to us in a package one day that we both swore to each other we had never ordered. It was addressed to Mary and it had no return address. When Mary opened it there had even been a short note attached to the bear that read:

"Dear Mary,

Congratulations to you and your husband on your third little miracle. We send our unconditional love. Take care."

And it wasn't signed. I had no idea what it had meant by our "third little miracle". Luckily, Mary had always been smarter than me. She drove to the store that afternoon and returned home with a pregnancy test. A half hour later we were calling her doctor to make our first appointment. But since that day I was wary of things. Who had sent that bear and how did they know Mary was expecting before we had known?

The night of Mary's death was actually the day of her first appointment. It was the first and last time I got to see my precious third child... _{There are stains on the page around here that look like tear stains...}_

I had gone downstairs to watch television because I couldn't sleep. Mary kept getting up every hour on the hour to use the restroom. Each one of Mary's pregnancies were always like that at night for the first trimester. She would always smile at me and say: "Oh John, it's only proof of the miracle happening inside me..." But that night, around the third or fourth time she got up, I did as well. I asked her if she was alright and she just said her little sentence, then added at the end: "If you can't sleep dear, you can go downstairs. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

So I did. I went downstairs and somehow fell asleep in my armchair while watching some strange show on the television. Oh... if only I had just stayed with my wife... I would have been able to stop her from going into Sammy's room! _{The pen's ink seems heavier here, showing more pressure is being applied, cluing at John's anger.} _I could have taken her place...

I'm going to my wife's grave today. I decided that the boys and I should pay our respects every year. No one but Mary and I... and the sender of that damned bear, knew that Mary was pregnant, so no headstone for the child was ever set. I will still think of that child everyday along with my wife... for the rest of my life. I would die if it meant getting revenge for them. Perhaps there is a way I can _{The rest of this sentence is illegible due to how much it has been scribbled out.}_

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><p>It's late now... the boys are asleep together like they always are. I should be too, but I have to get this off my chest now. A very startling thing happened today at the cemetery. The boys and I were walking through it to get to Mary's grave. We were about twenty or thirty feet from her grave, up at the top of a hill. The boys rushed down it hand in hand. Dean was holding some flowers in the other hand. I stopped for a second to watch them and a voice surprised me.<p>

"Cute kids."

I turned to look in the direction where the voice came. A tall, dark haired man was walking toward me.

"Thank you..." I replied carefully. "Who are you?"

"Just a friend. How old are they?" he asked.

"Five and eighteen months." I said.

"Dean sure seems protective over little Sammy."

"Yes... he is. He never let's Sam out of his sight." I murmured, turning away from the man to look down at my boys.

"They look so much like their mother. It's a shame... what Azazel did to Mary... I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Tha- Wait. How do you-?" I turned to look back at the man, but he was gone...

I keep running this conversation through my head. Did it really happen? Perhaps I was just daydreaming. No. That man was too real. But how did he know my sons' names? And the name of my wife? And who is... Azazel?


	3. Chapter 3

**December 7th 1984**

A little over two weeks before Christmas. I don't know what to do with the boys. I was never good at Christmas... that was all Mary's holiday. I mean... what should I get for them? I didn't know what Dean even likes. And Sam's a toddler. Do I get him pull up diapers? God, I'm hopeless. Maybe I should get a Christmas tree. Or maybe take the boys to go see one of those mall Santas. Then they can look around the stores for toys. You know, I used to dream of doing all those things, but now it just seems miserable.

Sammy keeps crying for his mother and any time I try to soothe him, nothing works. I just end up listening to him cry for at least an hour while Dean tries to calm him. Most of the time Dean succeeds. God, what kind of father am I? My five year old son calms down my toddler better than I can! I should have never had children... then Mary might still be alive.

Where would I even put a Christmas tree? We live in a motel for Christ's sake! I guess I'll just take the boys to the mall.

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><p>That trip actually went well.<p>

We got to the mall and Sam saw Santa and his face lit up. I got a picture with both Sam and Dean on his lap. But then Santa asked them what they wanted for Christmas.

Dean said: "I want my mom back."

Sam said: "Mommy."

I had to then explain that the boys had just recently lost their mother and I got tons of sympathetic looks. I HATE those looks. I took my boys away quickly. Then we went to a couple stores in the mall. Sammy seemed very attached to a specific penguin stuffed animal. This made me smile because penguins had been Mary's favorite animal. Dean though, hadn't seemed to find an interest in anything. But then he saw the miniature Christmas tree.

"Look Dad." He'd said. "We should get that so Sammy can have a Christmas."

Not "So we can have a Christmas." Everything was all about Sam. This broke my heart. But it was what Dean wanted. All that Dean wanted. So I bought the tree and Sam and Dean pick several things to put on it from the box of small ornaments that went with the tree. Most of Sam's were small animals and sparkly balls. But Dean just grabbed three balls with a word on each.

'Love.'

'Hope.'

'Family.'

I smiled.

"Very nice Dean, Sam." Dean just shrugged. Then I saw three small reindeer. One had antlers like a strong adult male. Then two had little stubs, like they were young males.

"Look boys." I said. I held them up.

"Cool." Dean didn't sound too interested.

So we bought all those things, except the penguin. I'll go back for that later and wrap it up for Sam. When we got back we set the tree up on the nightstand between the two beds in the motel room. I took a sharpie and wrote our names on the reindeer, each corresponding with us.

I think I did okay... I just wish I could find a way to make Dean happy.


	4. Chapter 4

**December 25th 1984**

Well it's Christmas. Actually, it's drawing to a close. It's 11:00 right now and the boys are in bed. I wanted to write down all of today. I got the stuffed animal for Sam earlier this week. And I remembered something I'd seen Dean looking at. It was a cross necklace like the one Mary had hanging on her lamp at her bedside. I don't know what made Dean remember it, but he obviously cared enough to remember it at such a young age. So I got that for him.

I wrapped both and when the boys opened them this morning, they seemed ecstatic. Dean smiled for the first time in a long time... and I had put that smile on his face. I was so proud. Dean hung the necklace just like Mary had.

Then I bundled up the boys and took them sledding. I held onto Sammy and Dean sat in between my legs as we went down the biggest hill in town several times. But soon Dean told me that Sammy was getting cold. I took them back to the motel and made Dean some hot chocolate, then put him and Sammy down for a nap. As I cleaned up the mess, I was shocked to hear a voice behind me.

"You're a good father, you know."

I dropped Dean's mug and turned to face whoever had spoken to me. The same dark haired man from the graveyard was standing before me.

"Who are you?" I had asked sternly. "How did you get into this room."

"You mustn't forget that no matter what happens, you will always be forgiven. You're going through a hard time, John." The man had ignored my questions.

"How do you know my name?"

The man had then glanced over and watched my boys sleep for a minute.

"They are quite valuable. Even beyond what you know."

"Answer my questions!" I had been losing my temper with him fast.

"I apologize. But I've already told you. I'm a friend."

"Why. Are. You. Here?"

"To warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

"About your younger son, Sam. There is more to him than what is just on the surface. Something... inside."

"What do you mean?"

"He's special, John."

"How?"

"Something happened to Sam the night your wife was killed..."

"But what?!"

"I must go, John. We will meet again."

And now, here I am, writing this down. It's like a dream, how the man disappeared into thin air. He couldn't have been human... But what is he? Who is he?

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><p><strong>A.N.: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all ya readers out there! Thanks for reading. Leave me some reviews! ~12HockeyChick21<strong>


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